My keepers, why keepers, I'm in no danger of stirring an inch, ah I see, it's to make me think I'm a prisoner, frantic with corporeality, rearing to get out and away.
Samuel BeckettI always thought old age would be a writerโs best chance. Whenever I read the late work of Goethe or W. B. Yeats I had the impertinence to identify with it. Now, my memoryโs gone, all the old fluencyโs disappeared. I donโt write a single sentence without saying to myself, โItโs a lie!โ So I know I was right. Itโs the best chance Iโve ever had.
Samuel BeckettReality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.
Samuel BeckettPersonally of course I regret everything. Not a word, not a deed, not a thought, not a need, not a grief, not a joy, not a girl, not a boy, not a doubt, not a trust, not a scorn, not a lust, not a hope, not a fear, not a smile, not a tear, not a name, not a face, no time, no place...that I do not regret, exceedingly. An ordure, from beginning to end.
Samuel Beckett